


The Baked Off Job

by weaselett



Category: Leverage, The Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaselett/pseuds/weaselett
Summary: Eliot Spencer does not like Paul Hollywood.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ranalore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranalore/gifts), [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/gifts).



The silence is tense as they sit in their hotel room, Eliot's shoulders are stiff as he sits glaring at the recipe books spread out on the corner desk, muttering to himself. 

Hardison curls tighter around his tablet trying to find a way to break the tension even as Parker picks another little cake from her collection and pops it into her mouth. She chews thoughtfully for a long moment then nods sagely, “Edith's mini cupcakes are totally the best.”

Hardison's eyes widen and he stares at her in mute horror, all too aware of Eliot's slow turn. He has legitimately never been more terrified in his life. 

“What?” Eliot's growl is a whole octave lower than usual, one hand fisting on top of a recipe book the other on his knee. There is something seriously wrong with an Eliot who is this stressed out about cooking. 

Cooking is meant to be Eliot happy time, even if sometimes he's a bit of a hard ass about it. Seriously, what was wrong with a little technology in the kitchen?

Parker holds up a mini cupcake, identical to the one she's just eaten, “Edith's are the best. The balance of flavors, the icing and they all look exactly the same.” Parker waves the cupcake at Eliot. “She should totally win.”

Eliot's eye twitches and Hardison groans.

“Babe, you are not helping.”

Parker frowns, “Eliot isn't supposed to win, and his stuff isn't supposed to be the best.” She points out, gaze drifting to the books spread around Eliot. So many books. “And he's acting like he's actually in a competition.”

“It is a competition.” Eliot growls and Hardison shakes his head, 

“Naw man, it's a family, you're supposed to be bonding with everyone else and being supportive.” Hardison can feel himself practically vibrating. This show, he knows, there are people he follows on tumblr who make the best gif sets. It's meant to be about the camaraderie and the terrible British puns. 

In hindsight, quality of baking aside, Eliot totally wasn't the best choice for this. 

Maybe they should have called Tara. Maybe Tara could cook. 

Just not Sophie. Never, never Sophie. 

Parker sighs heavily next to him, flopping backwards on the bed, “Why is Eliot being so grumpy, he's not supposed to win.”

Hardison tenses again, instincts screaming at him to just run already. 

“Parker...” Eliot's voice is more normal, but Hardison can hear the edge to it. This whole job was totally a mistake. 

“You're not supposed to win.” Parker repeats, “And why do you care what the beardy man thinks?”

Eliot's eye twitches again.

“It's not like they were your best cakes.” Hardison offers, anything to break the god awful tension. He is so disappointed. He had dreamed of this, only there had been a lot more snark, getting fed cakes in bed and bare flesh. 

So disappointed. 

Eliot closes his eyes and sits silently for a few minutes drawing a sigh from Parker before she offers Hardison the cupcake, bouncing on the bed just a little. For a moment Hardison can almost convince himself that those dreams will be coming true after all. 

“You can not make a Viennese whirl from scratch in less than an hour.” Eliot sounds strained, just like every time he tries to teach one of them to cook. Well, every time he tries to teach Hardison to cook. “And there are cameras everywhere.” 

Hardison exchanges a look with Parker, that was the other thing he hadn't thought through. Eliot would talk about cooking sure, there would be a level of passion in his voice too, but his emotions while cooking, hell no. 

Emotions were not a thing often spoken of by Eliot. He mostly grunted affection, unless they were in bed and then sometimes he would yell it, if Parker got the angle just right. 

“And that is why you are only meant to be passable, and we are aiming for you to be the one to leave the third week.” Hardison says, in his most even tone. 

“Provided we get what we need.” Eliot counters, fingers drifting across the open page of one of Mary's books. 

Parker stands and crosses the room to lift a single mini cupcake from it's exile on the windowsill. “I won't even eat this.” Her voice is solemn and she carries the pitiful thing across to place it on the desk in front of Eliot. “One more week, with good planing, and we'll be able to move on to the next stage.”

“I don't even think he's going to survive this week.” Hardison adds, eyeing the little black cupcake. 

“He adds drama.” Parker provides, dropping back down onto the bed to lean into Hardison's side. 

“Yeah, and Dorothy dropped half her stuff.” Hardison allows. They'd factored in 'some of them will just be terrible' when they'd been planning this, along with the necessary alterations to Eliot's appearance given there was no way to avoid him appearing on TV. 

Hardison watches the deflated Eliot, poking the cupcake half heartedly, “Look Eliot, just make sure there's a tone of alcohol in your show stopper, and it's edible and you'll get through.”

Eliot musters up the energy to glare at him and it gives Hardison some hope that it's not going to be a complete wash out after all.


End file.
